Caucus!
Mommy and I hired a babysitter for tonight. We said goodbye to the kids, and drove off for three, glorious, childfree hours. Unfortunately, we spent at least two of those hours at a caucus.
Thanks to tradition and not much else, Iowa has the first say in choosing our president. This gives Iowans tremendous influence in electing the nation’s leader. It also pumps millions of dollars into the state’s economy as campaigns and media buy food, lodging, and advertising. The economy even trickles down to babysitters as no sane person would dare bring their young children to a two-hour political discussion. Of course, many participants in the political process are not sane; we saw maybe a half-dozen children 5 and under at the caucus, but not once did I say, “gee, I wish we’d have done that.”
A caucus is not a traditional election. In a traditional election, you show up at some point during an approximately 12-hour window, register, vote, and return home in about 5-minutes. In a caucus, you show up precisely at 6:30, register, and then take a seat because you’re going to be there for a while. The caucus leader takes us through several formalities, many people give political speeches, and then the “alignment” begins. All candidates must have support from at least 12.5% of caucus-goers. Any candidate with less than that level is not “viable,” and supporters must either poach enough supporters from another candidate to become viable, or go join another group of supporters and make them viable. Counts and recounts are frequent occurrences. It’s a hectic process that’s best done in small groups of maybe about 20, and can become unwieldy in groups over 100. 489 people caucused at our site.
My candidate was not viable in the first alignment; my candidate wasn’t viable four years ago either, so I seem to be good at choosing those. I went to work and poached a supporter* from another candidate. My candidate’s precinct captain also went to work, except he worked much harder than I did, and dug up enough caucus-goers to make our candidate (barely) viable. And all that happened in only took two hours.
Such is the excitement of the Iowa Caucuses. It’s a fascinating process for adults, but dreadfully dull for children. The handful of tots drug to the proceedings reminded me of this as their mommies and daddies struggled to keep them entertained.
Our family has a tradition of eating out after we vote. We sit around our food, discussing the election, and wait for the results to roll in. The babysitter still had the upper hand over the children, so we took the time to visit a restaurant. We chose the finest place we could think of that had a drive-thru. We enjoyed ice cream and split an order of onion rings. At least we can say we hired a babysitter so we could visit a restaurant.
* I.e. “mommy.”
Thanks to tradition and not much else, Iowa has the first say in choosing our president. This gives Iowans tremendous influence in electing the nation’s leader. It also pumps millions of dollars into the state’s economy as campaigns and media buy food, lodging, and advertising. The economy even trickles down to babysitters as no sane person would dare bring their young children to a two-hour political discussion. Of course, many participants in the political process are not sane; we saw maybe a half-dozen children 5 and under at the caucus, but not once did I say, “gee, I wish we’d have done that.”
A caucus is not a traditional election. In a traditional election, you show up at some point during an approximately 12-hour window, register, vote, and return home in about 5-minutes. In a caucus, you show up precisely at 6:30, register, and then take a seat because you’re going to be there for a while. The caucus leader takes us through several formalities, many people give political speeches, and then the “alignment” begins. All candidates must have support from at least 12.5% of caucus-goers. Any candidate with less than that level is not “viable,” and supporters must either poach enough supporters from another candidate to become viable, or go join another group of supporters and make them viable. Counts and recounts are frequent occurrences. It’s a hectic process that’s best done in small groups of maybe about 20, and can become unwieldy in groups over 100. 489 people caucused at our site.
My candidate was not viable in the first alignment; my candidate wasn’t viable four years ago either, so I seem to be good at choosing those. I went to work and poached a supporter* from another candidate. My candidate’s precinct captain also went to work, except he worked much harder than I did, and dug up enough caucus-goers to make our candidate (barely) viable. And all that happened in only took two hours.
Such is the excitement of the Iowa Caucuses. It’s a fascinating process for adults, but dreadfully dull for children. The handful of tots drug to the proceedings reminded me of this as their mommies and daddies struggled to keep them entertained.
Our family has a tradition of eating out after we vote. We sit around our food, discussing the election, and wait for the results to roll in. The babysitter still had the upper hand over the children, so we took the time to visit a restaurant. We chose the finest place we could think of that had a drive-thru. We enjoyed ice cream and split an order of onion rings. At least we can say we hired a babysitter so we could visit a restaurant.
* I.e. “mommy.”
posted by Matt at
11:59 PM
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